


ruminations on the looming effect

by yik3s



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Sexual Harassment, i just have feelings about growing up as a girl esp surrounded by boys, kiara's thoughts are not my own do not @ me, kind of jj/kiara or jj/pope/kiara if u squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28055577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yik3s/pseuds/yik3s
Summary: "no pogue-on-pogue macking" "I know that door’s locked because I’ve tried it" "tell Kiara she looks pretty hot for a pogue"growing up as a pogue, as a kook, as a woman.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	ruminations on the looming effect

**Author's Note:**

> title from ladies by fiona apple!

Sure, Kie is a girl. Technically. She’s a girl, but it doesn’t matter. She runs around the island in a swimsuit and shorts, she steals the best waves from JJ and wipes out on half of them, she sleeps over at John B’s, like, every other weekend, and she talks shit for hours with Pope. She has her boys, but they’re not really boys, and she’s not really a girl. They’re just the pogues. They’re the pogues, and they’re inseparable, and they’re forever. And then she gets to high school age, and her parents are suddenly sending her to the Kook Academy.

 _Enough, Kiara,_ her mom says. _Enough. It’s time to grow up. You’re becoming a woman._

So Kiara’s a woman, now. Kiara is a woman, and it had never felt important before, until she got to the Kook Academy. Because then she’s not Kie anymore, the champion post-soda burper and best smack-talker around. She’s a _girl_ and there are ways that girls act. Girls are cute and sweet and they don’t burp in public – do these girls _ever_ burp? – and they don’t fish, and they wear make-up. Girls have crushes on boys and position themselves at parties to hook up with those crushes, then deny it at school the next day. Girls talk shit about each other in the bathrooms while touching up their lip gloss, then smile sweetly across the lunch table at their friend who _is such a slut, I swear to god, she’s given like 5 different guys a blow job_. Girls wear bikinis that look good, not swimsuits made for actual movement, and they work on their tans, not their tail slides. Girls don’t fix boat engines, they flirt with a guy until he agrees to do it for them.

And the thing is, is that Kiara is a feminist. Women can act however they want, and there’s nothing inherently wrong with traditionally feminine behavior. She fucking knows this! But it’s hard not to feel straight up disgust for a classmate when she leans over the lunch table to give her crush a perfect view of her cleavage, batting her mascara-ed eyes and playing with her straightened hair, and asking him _wow, how do you know so much about surfing_ when Kiara has personally seen him wipe out on a wave that a fucking two-year-old could handle.

And she’s trying, she really is, to find common ground. She’s trying to remember that not everyone has grown up like her, not everyone was lucky enough to have friends like the pogues. She always had a way to go and get some perspective when her mom was acting like her not shaping her eyebrows was a national tragedy, and most of these girls didn’t have that. So, she talks to the people she sits next to in class, she offers help in the subjects she’s good at and she keeps her mouth shut when she hears people gossiping about each other. More than once, she offers a make-up wipe to a girl crying in the bathroom, and once even gives a mint to a girl who’s just thrown up. She tries to get used to occupying this new space in this new world. At the Kook Academy, she’s a girl first, and Kiara second.

It’s Sarah Cameron who finally makes a difference. Kiara’s been at the school for months already. It took her weeks to even accept this as her new reality – she’s still pretty pissed at her parents, not sure she’ll ever be fully over it – and since then she’s been. Well. Not _unfriendly_ exactly, but she definitely could be making more of an effort. She really has been trying to fit in, it’s just that there’s literally _nothing_ she has in common with these people. They can talk about school, they can talk generally about the OBX, and that’s… kind of it. So when Sarah Cameron asks her if she wants to save baby sea turtles with her, it’s such a sigh of relief that she almost loses her breath. She can’t say yes fast enough, and after that day, that wonderful day, she almost feels like she can do this. If this is being a girl – working together with Sarah to get the baby turtles to the ocean, getting smoothies, hanging out at the beach, sending each other links about wildlife habitats of the OBX that are being turned into housing developments, chatting late into the night about school, and boys, and their worries about the future – she thinks she can do that. Sarah Cameron makes being a girl – being a _woman_ – a lot easier.

It also helps that that, despite her original effort to ignore her mom’s words, she really is growing up. There’s a curve now, between her waist and her hips, which hadn’t been there before. And she actually has to wear a real bra now, not a simple crop top under her outer shirt. She’s changed physically, is still changing, and it makes the other changes easier. It’s weird, though. At the Wreck, sometimes, men’s eyes follow her around as she helps out her dad. She can’t go through that one shortcut to John B’s anymore, not after that old man catcalled her then looked like he was going to follow her, and going round the other way means she’s more likely to get caught by her dad and asked to do something _just real quick Kiara, come on, we’ve all gotta do our bit_. So she’s seeing the pogues less, and part of her isn’t even sorry, because she knows that she’s a woman now, that if she spends too much time in the Cut with the boys then rumors will start flying. And that’s a real weird part of being a girl, a woman, the implication that any interaction with the opposite sex means that _something’s happening_ between them.

She’s spending more time with Sarah anyway, and through her, other girls in their class. And honestly, Kiara never realized before how much time and effort it takes to be a girl. There are parties, there are hang-outs, and you’ve got to be aware of every small adjustment in every friendship – even ones that you’re not a part of. You’ve got to know who’s dating who, because talking to a boy who’s taken is the ultimate offence, even if you’re talking about something like that week’s math homework. And you’ve got to look the part. Kiara starts shaving her legs, her armpits, her bikini line, starts plucking her eyebrows. She considers buying a hair straightener. She goes to the mall with Sarah for a new outfit or a new bikini practically every weekend, and she buys make-up for the first time in her life. She giggles with Sarah and Ashley and Jennifer as they all follow a new eye shadow tutorial on Youtube, and she begins instinctively cataloguing what people are wearing when she sees them. It’s a change, sure. Definitely an adjustment. But it’s not really that hard – after all, it’s what her mom had always wanted from her.

She doesn’t see the pogues at all anymore, and it’s true that the thought of them hanging out without her makes something hurt deep in her stomach, but she’s not wanting for company. There’s at least one party a week among the kids from the Kook Academy, at least one person whose parents are overindulgent or away on business or straight up negligent. Kiara knows how to do parties. The pogues had been at least a year into stealing beers from Big John and hanging around the outskirts of parties at the Boneyard when she’d stopped seeing them so much. A freshman kook’s party is well within her comfort zone. She usually has a couple drinks with Sarah, dominates at pong, then idly flirts with whichever boy is closest and not repulsive until she gets bored or they start to show real interest, at which point she makes a hasty retreat back to Sarah, starts the process over again. It’s fun, and it’s a system that works.

It’s actually Kiara’s first party at Sarah’s house where things start to go wrong. She’s just beaten Zach Mitchell so badly at pong that she thinks he might be looking for a place to cry, when Sarah’s brother Rafe comes up at her side, getting close so that she’s caught between him and the table. He smells strongly of smoke and of something much stronger than the Natty Light she’s been drinking.

“Damn, girl, made Zach look like a pussy there,” he says, a slight slur between his words. This is true, she thinks, but doesn’t exactly invite a response. She’s not sure what to say, so she takes a drink. Rafe continues, not seeming to notice her silence. “Come and have a drink outside.” He says, leaning towards her a bit. “We’ve got weed and vodka.” He’s been outside with his friends all night – they’re seniors, so Kie has been steering clear. Honestly, though, she could really go for the weed. She got high a couple times with JJ and John B the summer before freshman year, with Pope emphatically uninterested in the weed but hanging out anyway and keeping an eye. She’s not had the chance since then, but smoking massively chills her out, so she follows Rafe outside. His friends are sat on the patio furniture, passing a couple joints around between them. She knows most of them – by sight, if not from the Club – and they make space easily, including her in the joints as they continue their conversation.

“There’s no fuckin’ way he’s getting into Duke, seriously.”

“No, dude, listen, that’s his _safety_.”

Kiara has a couple tokes, keeps taking the joint whenever it comes round, and drifts as they start deciding whose dick this guy is gonna have to suck to get into Duke. She could not be less interested in this conversation, and isn’t even sure who they’re talking about, but the weed is calming her down in a way she really needs, and the soft breeze floating across her skin feels really good.

“Kiara!” She snaps back to attention. “Kiara, shot?” Why not. She takes the shot, takes a second one when it’s offered, and follows the group back inside when they all head that way and someone pulls on her wrist to follow. _Going with the flow_. Kie giggles to herself, thinking that she really is agreeable like this. Maybe she should get high next time her mom wants her to go to a function at the Club. Back inside, it’s darker, but also brighter from the strobe lights someone has brought. The music is loud, and she can feel the bass in her teeth. Sarah and Ashley shoot her looks from across the room where they’re chatting, checking in, and she smiles back, feeling great. It’s nice that she’s friends with them, she thinks, it’s nice to have girl friends. Girls are so nice.

“Well, I’ll agree with that.” A sleazy voice cuts in near her, coming from the guy who has a hold of her wrist – Andrew? – and she realizes she said it out loud.

“Girls are great.” She repeats, more firmly. Laughs erupt around her, and she smiles along. The hand on her wrist moves to her waist, steering her through a doorway. It’s a quieter room, with sofas instead of just standing space. She takes stock – there are at least 10 of them in the room, her included, most of them Rafe’s friends. As well as the one she thinks is Andrew, she recognizes Joshua, Abby and Olivia, and follows them as they go to sit on the couch. Kiara’s talked to Abby before, and thought she was nice, and she tries to talk to her again now. Abby is leaning forward, though, engaged in a conversation with Rafe. She’s doing that thing where she emphasizes her cleavage, and even Kiara can tell it’s totally working for her. Rafe’s eyes are nowhere near Abby’s face.

“- I ever?” Kiara shakes her head, concentrates on the words being spoken to the room at large. “Never have I ever?” There are cheers, and she smiles. She knows this game! She’s played with the pogues. She pushes herself more upright on the couch, tries to concentrate. There’s a drink in her hand – Natty Light, which is good, she’s already crossfaded, and she thinks more vodka is definitely a bad idea – and she vaguely remembers picking it up as they passed through the kitchen. She takes a pre-emptive drink as Olivia starts the game.

“Never have I ever… thrown up drunk in a car!” Kiara thinks John B’s ancient surfer van probably still counts as a car. She drinks. Joshua, next to her, pokes her. She jumps.

“Huh?”

“We’re playing Strip. You gotta drink and take something off.” Kie pauses for a second, then takes off her left sandal. “Oh, boo.” Joshua says good-naturedly, and she snorts. As the rounds go on, people lose interest. Abby and Rafe are making out by the fourth person’s turn, and after a few more, it’s just Kiara, Joshua, and Andrew. Joshua and Andrew, both shirtless, exchange a look that Kiara can’t interpret.

Andrew goes next. “Never have I ever been friends with pogues.”

Kiara is already down to her base layer. She hesitates, takes her top off.

Joshua’s next, and he bites his lip before speaking. “Never have I ever worked in a restaurant.”

Kiara’s shorts come off. She’s in her underwear. She’s breathing heavily, not sure if she’s nervous, excited, or scared. There are so many people in this room, even though most aren’t paying attention, and she’s nearly naked. Andrew and Josh have their eyes directly on her exposed skin. She’s frozen, forgets its even her turn to go, and Andrew is just opening his mouth with a glint in his eye when Abby comes up for air and notices what’s going on.

“Guys, what the fuck?!”

Joshua looks immediately bashful, while Andrew smirks. “It’s a game, Abby.” Abby stands, puts her hands on her hips.

“She’s fourteen, you sick fucks. And she’s hella out of it.” Kie looks up at where Abby is standing, and the motion makes her sway a little. She considers that Abby might be right.

Rafe is tugging at Abby’s hand. “Come on,” he’s saying, “it’s a game, nothing’s gonna happen. Just leave them to it.” Abby pulls her hand roughly out of Rafe’s grip, then comes over to Kie, pulling her shirt back over her head and helping her back into her shorts. Kiara’s being ushered out of the room when she overhears Andrew.

“Dude, I just wanted to see her tits. _So_ close.”

Rafe laughs loudly in agreement. “Next time, man.”

Kiara tries not to think about what exactly that might mean. Abby takes her to the kitchen and gets her a glass of water, hand firm on her shoulder. “You okay?” she says kindly. Kie nods.

“Yeah, thanks.” There’s a pause, as she’s not sure what to say. “I’m gonna find Sarah.” Abby nods, lets her wander off, and it only takes 5 or so minutes to find Sarah, near where she’d been standing before. Sarah sees Kiara’s face and immediately abandons her conversation.

“Are you alright?” She asks in an undertone, touching Kiara’s elbow lightly. Kiara’s been feeling more and more weird by the second about what just happened, and makes this kind of gasping, sobbing noise, shaking her head. Sarah’s gentle hand turns steady, and she smoothly directs Kie through the crowds, up the stairs, and into Sarah’s room.

“What happened?” She sits Kiara down on the bed and wipes away a few stray tears.

Kie sniffs, swallows, and tells Sarah everything. “I would have just done it, Sarah. I would have just, just, taken my bra off. Got naked. In front of all those people.” Honestly, this is what’s upsetting Kie the most. Her own obedience. Her – her fucking _meekness_. Those boys smirking at each other as if she was there for their consumption, and her just allowing it. Accommodating it, even. The tears slow as she realizes that she’s not sad. She’s _furious_.

Sarah’s holding her close, arm around her shoulders, rubbing comfortingly up and down her arm, and Kiara realizes she’s been speaking the whole time. “- so sorry, Kiara, seriously, I’ll fucking chop off their dicks, it would serve them right. They’re never coming back to this house, I’ll stop them ever speaking to you again if you don’t want them to. Fucking Rafe and his awful friends, I swear – “

Whatever Sarah is about to say is cut off by the bear hug Kie gives her. This is being a woman, she thinks – not the solidarity against shitty men, though it’s unfortunately necessary – but the unconditional support. Sarah is furious because someone fucked with her friend, because those guys preyed on the vulnerable 14-year-old, because they did it in her house, but most of all she’s furious because Kiara is furious. In the same way that she knew from a glance at Kie’s face that something was wrong. Because she pays attention, because Kie is her friend. Kie sways them side to side, wrapped up close in a hug.

“Thank you.” She whispers.

Sarah frowns. “Don’t, there’s no need, I should have – “

“Shut up. Thanks for being here. Now, and other times.” Sarah sniffs, whispers the same back, and the hug goes on for far longer than any other Kiara’s been a part of. They end up on their backs on Sarah’s bed, swapping stories and jokes and observations, making each other laugh and shedding a few more tears together. They’re there until well after the last person leaves the party, and they fall asleep there together, cuddled close.

**

It’s that night that Kie thinks about as she watches Sarah’s birthday party happen over Instagram. It had felt like a shift in everything. Like this was a forever kind of friendship. And now here she is, not even a month later.

It looks like a great party. There are jelly shots, it looks like someone’s brought body paint, and if Kiara is counting right then there are 3 simultaneous games of flip cup going on in different rooms of the house. Sarah is everywhere, huge smile featuring in what seems like every single post. She looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world. She definitely doesn’t look like someone who had a falling out with her best friend – even a one-sided one that the best friend didn’t know about – and didn’t invite her to the party. Nor does she look like someone waiting for her best friend to show up, invitation forgotten. There’s no empty space where Kiara should be. It’s like she was never there.

Kiara is resigning herself to a fucking pathetic night of watching the party happen over socials, crying a bit, and maybe eating some ice cream, when the stories function of Instagram ticks automatically over to the next person. Which is Rafe Cameron’s new update. His shaky hands are filming someone pour out a bunch of shots, then his camera pans up to the group who’s about to take them. Standing at the front of the pack is Andrew. Kie puts her thumb on the screen to pause the video and squints. She can see the side of Joshua’s head too, although he’s turned to talk to someone who’s out of shot. She takes her thumb off the screen and breathes in deep, resisting the urge to pinch her nose like her mom does when she’s pissed off.

 _Never coming back to this house_ , huh? If Sarah’s anger that night was so fake, why had she even said that? And what else was fake? Had they ever really been friends?

Kie taps to rewatch Rafe’s story, starting with a video of a radiant Sarah blowing out her candles with her family earlier that night, then progressing into the party. Kie shuts her eyes tight, thinking about Sarah’s wide smile and Andrew’s smug grin as he took his shot on Rafe’s story. When she opens them again, she presses the home screen on her phone and opens the phone app. Dials.

“Hi, police?”

**

Weirdly, it seems like JJ is the angriest about her ditching the pogues. Well, it might not be that weird. Pope is too rational to get really angry, John B seems biologically incapable of holding grudges. He’s mourning his dad, anyway, has bigger things to think about. For a certain value of mourning, anyway. By the time Kie comes back to the Chateau with her tail between her legs, Big John has been missing for 3 weeks. Kie somehow hadn’t heard about it at all. She turns up and the four of them stand around in the kitchen awkwardly, drinking beers, until she asks where Big John is today. There’s an absolute silence, broken by JJ.

“Are you _fucking_ serious?” He hisses, crushing his empty beer can and slamming his way outside to smoke a dart. John B avoids her eyes, so in the end its Pope who explains what’s going on. She’s horrified. She apologies over and over, tries to give John B a hug.

“Stop it, I’m fine! He’s fine, too!” She exchanges a look with Pope, almost gets a warm tingle about how that’s just like old times, then remembers the circumstances and her heart hurts.

“What do you mean?” She asks carefully.

“Look, I’m not gonna get into it. But he’s not dead, honest.” She leaves it alone.

John B really does seem to think Big John is alive, acting like his dad’s just out on a fishing trip. She only catches him once, looking at the picture of his dad and him as a kid, half reaching out to touch it. He stops himself, and seems to shake himself out of it. She doesn’t mention it.

There’s a lot she’s not mentioning. They talk only briefly about her “kook year”, right at the start, before she even knows about Big John. She tries to make a joke out of it. “The kooks fuckin’, I don’t know, hypnotized me or something,” she says. Pope laughs – he always was the kindest – and John B smiles a bit, but JJ is staring darkly at her.

“And what, you’ve just snapped out of it?” he asks skeptically.

“I mean… yeah,” she can’t think of any other way to put it, really.

“So it’s not that we’re your second choice, then.” This isn’t even a question – his voice is too flat. There’s no response she can make, and he knows it. They fall into silence until she ruins things all over again with her question about Big John.

It takes JJ weeks to warm up to her. Pope and John B to forget all about her year away within days, with only the odd awkward moment when a reference is made to something from their time apart. She tries to tough it out each time but is never quite sure whether to ask what happened, and remind them all of her absence and her liquid backbone, or just go along and be completely lost. She usually lands somewhere in the middle, using context clues, asking for occasional details, and blagging her way through. But it’s hard not to feel like things really have changed.

For one thing, they were middle schoolers last time they were all hanging out regularly. It’s not like one year is a huge difference in itself, but one year of _high school_ – well, maybe. The boys all seem more grown up, more confident. They’ve all filled out, and lanky adolescents are starting to turn into proper men, with muscles and deep voices. She’s grown up, too, and she knows that they’ve noticed. Her mom’s voice rings in her ears whenever she notices one of them checking her out. _You’re becoming a woman, Kiara_. In a way, it’s nice. It’s nice to be desired, to be thought of as hot. She’s only human, she likes an ego boost as much as the next person. But more than that, it stings. Because she thought it was a Kook Academy thing. Girl first, Kiara second. But it seems to apply here too, even on the Cut, even on the HMS Pogue, even with her friends that were, and are starting to be again, more like family.

Every time she feels someone’s eyes on her when she pulls herself out of the ocean or onto her surfboard, it’s another reminder. She still wears the bikinis she used to buy with Sarah, and she tells herself that it’s not because the pogues more likely to forgive her past shittiness if they’re into her now. But that’s kind of a part of it. She can’t think about it too long or she starts wanting to throw up in her mouth. Girl first, Kiara second. But she’s not giving up the pogues a second time, not now. Not now that Big John’s missing, leaving John B without a father and JJ without a safe haven. Not now that she’s already missed a year of them growing and changing. She gives up trying to untangle the knot of feelings inside her. Go with the flow, she reminds herself.

In the end, her losing her shit is what seems to make JJ forgive her. They’re at the Boneyard, the shitty beer is kind of warm but free, and someone’s got a great Bluetooth speaker hooked up. It’s possible that Kie’s having a bit too much fun, but she hasn’t got really wasted since that first night at Sarah’s. And a lot of shit has happened since then. She promises herself she just won’t get crossfaded, and it’ll all be fine. By her fifth beer, she’s reconsidering, and she goes off in search of whoever might have weed and be in a giving mood. Of course, it’s JJ who she finds smoking a joint, leaning against a tree with a touron girl tucked under his arm and some other dude sitting with his legs bent next to them on the sand.

“Can I get in on this?” She asks, ignoring the raised eyebrow that is JJ’s only response and planting herself on the ground between the tree and the other guy. After the other guy takes his turn, he passes her the joint. She brings it to her lips and takes a strong drag, coughing a bit as she exhales. JJ’s eyebrows are still raised.

“Too much for you, girly?” He asks.

Kiara bristles at the designation. “Fuck off.” There’s real bite in her voice, something she’s avoided with JJ since she came back.

He seems a bit startled by her annoyance. “What crawled up your butt and died?” He takes the joint as she passes it to him. “Get rejected by some kook again?”

Kiara knows he means a kook _boy_ but she can’t help her reaction – she _was_ rejected by Sarah, and it was worse than a break up would probably be.

“Fuck _off_ , JJ!”

“You’re the one who came over here!”

At the raised voices, their two smoking companions seem to unanimously decide to go elsewhere, shooting each other looks and standing up to head out. JJ barely spares either of them a glance, glaring at Kiara. She glares back, jaw set, until JJ’s gaze softens a bit.

“Whatever. Come over here, you’re too far for sharing with just two.” She shuffles until she’s leaning against the tree with him, head tipped back. After a second he passes her the joint.

“So you’re not hooking up tonight?” His voice is kind of scratchy, and she sends him a weird look as she smokes.

“What? No?” He doesn’t reply to this, shrugging his shoulders as if she’s actually asking him a question and looking out at the sea. “Why are you being weird?” She pushes, more direct than she’s dared to be with him since she came back. He doesn’t move, eyes fixed on something in the distance. “Hello? JJ?” She pokes him.

He swats her hand away. “Stop it.” A second’s pause, then he moves away a little so he can face her. “It’s just – ” He stops.

Kie raises her eyebrows at him, trying not to find his hesitance funny but failing to prevent her lip from twitching a bit. He definitely sees his, sighs a bit, but laughs at himself after a second. The laughter fades quickly, and his eyebrows draw together. She watches his jaw tense, fascinated, not noticing as his hand comes up. She still has the joint, so for a second she thinks he’s reaching for it and starts to hold it out. His hand moves past it though, up to her face. With gentle fingers, he takes hold of one of her tiny braids, moving it a little back and forth. She becomes aware that she’s not breathing, takes a shaky breath in. His eyes move as she breathes out, from her hair down to her lips, her neck, and she suddenly realizes what’s happening. Before the signal can even compute in her brain, she’s pushing him away. Hard. He tumbles onto his back as she scrambles to her feet.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

There’s more panic in her voice than she wants there to be. Her heart is pounding. Her blood is rushing in her ears. JJ says nothing, starts to get to his feet, hands up in front of him like he’s claiming innocence. Kie is not having it.

“It’s been weeks since I came back – weeks of you refusing to talk to me and being so fuckin’ angry all the time and making things so difficult – and I’ve been wondering if we’re ever gonna be friends again. I’ve been thinking about how I can earn back your trust, and this whole fuckin’ time, you’ve just been thinking about fucking me?” JJ winces at this last sentence, but Kie’s complicated knot of feelings has turned into poison and it’s eating her insides, it’s turned into gasoline and is burning her straight up.

“All 3 of you checking out my boobs because of course that’s all I am now, thanks puberty, I’m just a walking set of tits, and it might be okay if it didn’t clearly change how you all think about me! I’m trying to be a pogue again because I miss you guys, even if it was my fault in the first place, and, and it’s just clear that I can’t be a pogue now that I’ve got boobs, because now I’m a girl and it’s _real_ and you can’t hang out with me if you think I’m hot, right? That’s not what girls are for? And this makes me such a fuckin’ hypocrite because I’ve never criticized when you talk about girls between you like you’re going fishing or some shit like they don’t matter or don’t have lives outside of you getting your dick sucked – “

JJ looks outright alarmed at her outburst, but Kie’s beyond noticing. She’s nearly beyond breathing.

“I thought it would be worth it to come back to you guys even knowing what the island will say, because you’re family, but you’ve barely looked at me in weeks apart from to _hit on me apparently_!” Her voice is raising in volume and pitch, but she can’t stop it. “What was your plan here, you were gonna hump and dump? Or keep me around on the HMS Pogue like a fuckin, like a fuckin’ concubine or something?” This is clearly too much. JJ breaks in.

“Kie, what the fuck?”

“What the fuck, me? What the fuck, _me_? Just wait ‘til I’m drinking and smoking then try and make a move, it’s like Rafe and his fucking creepy friends all over again – “

JJ grabs her wrist, eyes wide – angry? At her accusation? At Rafe? She can’t tell at all. “Rafe Cameron? What the fuck did they do, Kie?”

“Oh and of fuckin’ course that’s the thing that makes you stop, because you just have to save me now or avenge me or – what, I don’t even know – because I’m a damsel in distress and only a big strong man can save me? Or am I just your property and you don’t like someone else touching what’s yours?”

“Kie – “

“No, you’re not _listening_ to me!” Her voice cracks on the word _listening_ , but he’s not, he’s not listening. He lets go of her wrist, takes a step back, closes his mouth with an almost-audible click of his teeth. And just looks at her. She takes a deep breath, then another one. Her hands clench into fists so tight she’s worried about her nails breaking skin.

“Since I went to the Kook Academy, it’s just… being a girl is so different in that world. Suddenly it was a _thing_ and I had to act a certain way. I was just so miserable until I put in the effort to be like the other girls – and in some ways it’s nice, it is – but I’m not _good_ at it. And now I’ve got, like, curves, and men _look_ at me, even when I don’t want them to.” To her absolute horror, her voice quivers and she starts crying. She refuses to look at JJ, keeps her eyes on the sand. “Like half of what I just said to you was kind of unfair, but I just want to be a pogue. I don’t want to be a girl. I don’t even know if that makes sense, but if you guys just want me around as, like, eye candy or whatever, I’m out.” One more deep breath. “You guys can talk about it among yourselves tomorrow or something. I’ll head home.”

This time, when JJ reaches out, he takes a careful hold of her hand, stopping her mid-turn.

“No need to talk,” he says. “You’re a pogue.”

Kie wipes her eyes, takes another deep breath, and looks up at him. His face is set in the way it always is when he’s serious about something.

“If you’re just saying that because I’m crying…”

JJ snorts. “Your tears don’t scare me.” He hesitates. “Look, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly, I’m drunk. And high. And you _are_ hot.” He tightens his hold on her hand before she can react. “I listened, I swear, I heard what you said. And people who are looking at you when you don’t want are absolute trash. But you’re my friend, and you’re hot. If I was into dudes, I’d be trying to mack on John B and Pope every 5 seconds. Narrow escape for them, to be honest. Handsome bastards.”

Kie rolls her eyes at him.

“I won’t try anything again, and I’ll talk to the guys if you want.” He makes a dorky little cross on his chest with his index finger. “Cross my heart, hands to myself. Can’t promise I’m not gonna say anything, but you knew me when you said you still wanna be a pogue, so you knew what you’re getting.”

Kie is breathing easier. She squeezes his hand back.

“I did,” she says.

“We can have a rule.” JJ says. “No pogue-on-pogue macking. That way, the boys are safe if I ever start swinging both ways.” This prompts a real smile. “I don’t know what being a girl is like, Kie, but it sounds complicated as shit. But fuck that noise, you’re a pogue first.”

She lets out a heavy breath. “Pogue first,” she repeats. “Okay.” And it is.

It’s still weird, being a _woman_ , having eyes follow her in a bikini, being referred to as “hot” before anyone mentions her actual fucking personality, but it’s okay. It’s manageable. It’s something to get used to. She spends the summer as a pogue, and when she gets back to school in September, she ignores the people calling her a _bitch for ruining Sarah’s party_ and a _tattle-tale cunt_ – and yeah, of course the insults are misogynistic as all get-out – she holds her head high at school, then heads to straight to the Chateau when school gets out. She smokes with JJ or she listens to Pope talk about _rigor mortis_ and _discharge_ , and she feels normal again. It takes months, but she finally feels like she’s reached a normal. She’s a pogue, and she’s a woman, and she’s a stone-cold badass, and none of those things have to contradict the others.

And then John B finds a motel room key in a boat wreck.

**

John B kisses her, because of course he does, because he’s shaken from finding the compass, from accidentally hurting the lighthouse keeper, and she might be Kie, might be a pogue, but she’s still a girl. And what do men do when things get complicated if not find a girl to lean on? She shuts it down as best she can, hoping that JJ had followed through all that time ago when he said he’d talk to the boys, hoping that this is just a moment of weirdness and something they’ll get over when John B gives up this crazy treasure hunt. But he doesn’t give it up, and she ends up climbing into a snake-infested tomb, and then John B has somehow got Sarah fucking Cameron involved.

Kie almost wants to scream when he tells them, out at Rixon’s. The fact that she’s still dressed up for Midsummer, looking like a fucking kook, how she used to look when she would hang out with Sarah, just makes it feel even more like a kick in the teeth. John B swears up and down that he’s not macking Sarah, because apparently he thinks they’re fucking morons, and she doesn’t need JJ’s smug asides or Pope’s eye rolls to know that he’s full of shit. It becomes even more obvious when he falls from the Hawk’s Nest and Sarah is crying over his – god, it’s not his body, he’ll be okay – desperately calling his name. And then the next time Kie sees John B, looking normal except for his clunky cast, he says he’s staying at Tannyhill. But only because Sarah’s dad saved him from foster care, and no, there’s nothing going on with Sarah, with an undertone of _god, get over it_ , and she’s kind of tempted to slap him.

And then she _does_ slap him, and it’s only kind of because of the skeeter, because of-fucking-course he would make it about the kiss. She’s a girl, right, so she can’t be acting out of any other motivation than some obsession with her best friend. It must all be about some crush. They get distracted pretty quick by Pope’s discovery of the well, but the hurt, the rage, it hits something deep inside her, she can feel it. No way John B would have acted the same if it was Pope or JJ who had a problem with Sarah. Kie’s the one with experience, she knows how dangerous Sarah can be. She thinks of how many times Sarah had overheard people calling her a _bitch_ , calling her a _whore, hanging around with those dirty pogues_ , and completely ignored it. Laughed, even, a couple times, when people got at Kie for snitching. After months of friendship, after crying together, laughing together, spending every free minute together for weeks on end. But John B dismisses her as some petty _girl_ , and ignores years of friendship – maybe those two _are_ perfect for each other, after all – when she asks him straight up to choose. She’s not doing this with Sarah. It’s not fucking happening.

The others send Pope to comfort her, knowing he has the best chance, and at first she’s willing to be cheered up. But he clears his throat, shuffles a bit, and then he awkwardly puts his arm around her and she thinks about tearing out of her skin. They’ve never done this before, it’s never been like this. Everything’s weird, it’s all fucked up, they’re all treating her different. It might not be Sarah’s fault, she knows, but it’s linked in her head and it feels _violent_ , the way she wants this all to be over. It needs to stop, she needs her normal back. So it’s kind of a relief to get trapped on the boat with Sarah. It’s patronizing, and she hates being fucking _handled_ by her best friends, but at least she can get some kind of answers. It takes her most of the joint, a couple hours, and more than a few angry snaps at Sarah, but eventually she asks. Sarah – finally – after months of Kie wondering – answers, explains. It’s enough for the ragged edges in her to smooth out a bit.

The near-death experience doesn’t hurt, either – there’s something about being attacked by a blind, angry husband-killer with someone to make you feel closer to them – and then she’s forgetting all about it because _they found the fucking gold_. She feels electric, she loves all of them, and she knows they all feel the same, that night and into the next morning, melting down the gold bars John B had managed to grab. She wants to stay in that feeling, but of course it never lasts. The gun in their faces is a real hard slam back to the ground. Then JJ’s losing it and – _shit_ – going off on his own, and it’s more and more clear that they’re way out of their depth, and then. And then the hot tub. With JJ wrapped up close, something comes loose in Kie. She forgets, sometimes, all of the shit that her friends go through that she doesn’t see, and those bruises on JJ are a vicious reminder. She tightens her arms, strokes his hair. Pope’s arms come around them both, secure. _I just want to do the right thing_. She closes her eyes at JJ’s words and leans into both of her boys. The three of them spend the night at the Chateau, carefully talking about anything but the restitution, or the money, or fathers. They play cards, drink the rest of the shitty beer that’s in the fridge, and by the next morning things feel soft, settled. They have a plan for the gold, she’s chill with Sarah again, and the pogues are as solid as they’ve ever been. It could all work out. Except then John B comes tearing in and races off on JJ’s bike with the gun.

They take the HMS Pogue and she wonders how things fell apart in so little time. John B’s ready to _murder_ someone, they literally have no one to ask for help, and then Pope’s trying to walk away, asking her _why is it always about John B_. She knows what he’s not saying, knows that they’re just back in the Crain basement with John B asking her if she’s mad about the kiss, like once again they’re forgetting that she’s a fucking pogue, part of their family. Like she’s some girl with a crush just tagging along. The feeling is back, the one where she wants to tear her skin off, where she wants to break something and feel it shatter. Pope throws her kook year in her face and she feels tears well up, which is _unacceptable_ , so she covers it, shoving him. JJ breaks in, separates them, and she can’t look at either of them, clenching her teeth tight as she sits, knees curled up, holding herself together. She wonders if Sarah would understand, if she’d be able to put into words this feeling. Maybe not. Sarah was too good at being a girl, and besides, she’d never had the pogues.

The gold’s gone, and then the gold’s back in their reach, and then it’s _really_ gone, flying over heads, and this time it’s Pope who loses it. The gold, after the interview tanked, was his best shot at college, and she knows it’s not something she can understand. She’s had a college fund since she was 10. But she can’t stand the look on his face, can’t stand the way he brings the vape, listless, to his mouth. Pretty soon, though, it’s the least of their problems. They’re fucking fugitives, and somehow Pope is driving while high, destroying her car, and she can’t believe she’s even thinking about that petty shit but her parents are going to kill her. JJ’s _still_ smoking for some goddamn reason, and all she can think to do is to head to Tannyhill and find Sarah. Sarah’s the only one who can clear John B, and at this point, Kie could use some fucking support with Pope high and JJ egging him on. Pope follows her onto the estate – because why would he make her life easier – and her main concern is the keep him quiet, covering his mouth with her hand, until she takes it away and he just blurts it out.

“I love you, Kie.”

She’s confused at first, then dismissive – he’s literally never been high before, and he’s having a fucking day of it – and then, mostly, disappointed. JJ, months ago, then John B, and now Pope – all those assholes who’d said she must have some kind of thing with all three of the pogues, that she must be some slut, they they kept her around ‘cause she’s hot – in some, small, fucked up way, they were right. She clenches her left hand around her thumb and tries to remember that this is _Pope_ , he’s not doing this to hurt her, he’s not trying it on. He’s genuine, or thinks he is. And this isn’t the time for an argument. She tells him – quiet, firm – that it’s not going to happen, and when he asks why, she falls back on JJ’s words.

“Pogues can’t mack on other pogues.”

Except Pope won’t accept it and she’s running out of ways to say this calmly and maturely like she’s trying to. The feeling is back, again, like she wants to rip something apart, but _they don’t have time for this_ , for fuck’s sake, John B is on the run right now, and Pope is looking at her with his wide eyes, and none of them understand that she’s a person with ideas and opinions and dreams and she’s not gonna tie herself down, she’s not gonna be known by association with _any_ man. It’s not fucking happening. She’s pogue before she’s a girl, and even before that she’s Kie. She won’t be put on a fucking pedestal just because she was born with boobs. Pope’s face is awful when he finally gets it, and she feels bad, but she was right to say it and even more than that, they _do not have time for this_. They’re literally standing in the fucking Tannyhill garden. She brings up the plan again, and kind of hates herself a bit as she watches a single tear spill over and run down Pope’s face, wiped quickly away. She turns and heads quickly for the house.

They end up, the three of them again, sleeping at the Wreck. Kie wakes from a few hours of absolutely shitty sleep – worried, waking at every tiny noise, and unable to find a good spot on the hard wooden bench – to Pope giving her the silent treatment. He’s never been this childish, and she wants to grab him and shake him. Pogues for life, until she turns him down, apparently. She thought she was done with fickle friendships when she stopped hanging out with kooks. JJ’s kind of got her back, which is great, but when they run into her parents outside the wreck she wishes he wasn’t there. She wishes there was no one there to hear her voice break as she apologizes to her mom. She’d let her mom down in every way possible already, though, so what was one more? She remembers her mom’s words, from months and months before. _It’s time to grow up_. Well, she’s done that at least. She wipes a tear away, other hand tight on the steering wheel, head turned so that JJ can’t see her eyes.

When they reach his dad’s place, it’s his turn to keep his face turned away. He’s quick, in and out, and he smiles when he shows her the keys, but there are wet tears on his cheeks. She starts the car, biting her lip to keep from saying anything. She has to do the same when JJ’s having, like, a moment with the Phantom, calling it _she_ – she nearly asks if he wants a moment alone with “her” – when she hears an engine. But it’s not Pope, it’s fucking _Rafe_ , the shitbag, and then Barry comes in the other side, and he’s got a gun. Rafe pulls her away from JJ but she’s not passive _this_ time, no way, so she slaps him, calls him a murderer. She can hear JJ yelling and Rafe’s got his hand around her throat, yelling in her face about John B, and then Pope’s hitting him with something and she’s so damn grateful that she doesn’t even care that she’s mostly useless in the following fight. Pope’s full of adrenaline and something else – she remembers too late about Rafe beating on Pope days before, _god_ , it feels like weeks – and she and JJ only barely stop him from going too far, get him on the boat, and get the fuck out of there.

John B gets there, thank _fuck_ , in a stolen cop car somehow, and JJ’s got his arms around her and Pope, saying _Pogue Style_ like it’s some kind of promise, and then John B’s gone. He’s gone. They’ve done it. The mad rush of the last few hours – the last few days – it’s over. They don’t have the gold, but John B is safe. The energy goes out of Kie like someone’s pulled a plug. The three of them are left on the dock, and when Pope turns he’s right up close to Kie, apologizing, and offering a hand to shake. She pulls him into a hug. It’s catching up, everything that’s happened, and everything that will happen – she’s nearly died so many times in the last few days, and now John B is a wanted fugitive, and who even knows what happened to Sarah, and her mom will never forgive her for the way she left things. They’re all still in danger from Rafe and Barry, and Ward might be a threat too, and she can’t even process what’s happened that day. The pogues will never be the same, and she can’t help but feel like she’s lost everything. They pull back from the hug, and Pope is looking at her lips, and Kie kisses him. He wants her to, and she’s not going to lose him, and what’s wrong with taking the path of least resistance for _once_? What’s wrong with doing what’s expected? She kisses him, and everything’s quiet for a second, and then JJ’s voice cuts in, sirens bleeding into her hearing, and she remembers that everything’s fucked. And now she’s just kissed one of her best friends, too. Her best friend who declared his love the day before and who she firmly turned down.

Her hands are up before the cops’ guns even come out. _I surrender_ , she thinks. _Someone else sort this all out_. They’re brought to some kind of police tent, and Pope puts his hand over hers, and she lets him, and she doesn’t understand what any of the urgent activity around them actually means. Except, well, there’s a storm coming in. It sounds a lot worse than what they’d expected. The cops spot John B and Sarah, and then it’s a chase, and half the people inside the tent are suddenly on the outside, talking fast, running around, yelling at each other. They’re left practically alone in this shitty cold tent on shitty folding chairs, with one guy keeping an eye on them and only their worst-case scenarios to keep them company. And then Shoupe comes in, tells them the SBI _chased John B and Sarah right into the fucking storm_. “I’m sorry,” he says, like that’s going to make any difference, and then JJ’s yelling, held back by an officer, and Pope’s up in Shoupe’s face, yelling as well, and Kie is just – she’s just lost. Her parents arrive, her mom first into the tent, and Kie doesn’t hesitate before she walks straight into her arms, throat tight and something ugly trying to break out of her. Her mom shushes her, strokes her back, nods at the choked _they didn’t make it, mom_ , a solid support as Kie collapses. Kie hugs Pope, hugs JJ, goes back to her mom, and tries not to think about the Phantom out in the storm. Tries not to think about anything.

**

When John B and Sarah come back two months later, tanned, more in love than ever, and with 20 gold bars each, they find the three remaining pogues tangled tight in one hammock at the Chateau, JJ’s vape being passed between them, and a cooler full of beers next to them to offset the heat. Kie is almost tempted to violence when they rock up on a random Wednesday like nothing’s wrong, John B sporting his same old bandana. Instead, she hugs them both tight, laughing like she hasn’t in two months and reveling in the equally new smiles on Pope and JJ’s faces. The five of them spend the whole day together, lounging around the Chateau and swapping stories of what the others had missed. John B gets a lot of shit for his radio silence, apologizes, explains what went down with Ward, hand tangled in Sarah’s the whole time. Pope and JJ explain in turn what happened with Barry and Rafe and the twenty-five grand, Kie calling them out when their story gets a bit too embellished. Kie’s not felt so light in weeks, maybe months – maybe since before she went to the Kook Academy. At the Chateau with her pogues, where she is known, she is loved, and she is not expected to be any different than she is, she thinks this might finally be a normal she’s happy with.


End file.
